


And You Wonder Why I Never Call You

by orphan_account



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Crack, Drugs, F/M, Humor, Recreational Drug Use, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-14
Updated: 2013-10-23
Packaged: 2017-12-29 09:13:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1003630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The moment she climbed through his window, Michael Clifford's life got flipped upside down. Instead of just making it through is first year of uni, he finds himself chasing after a cute drug dealer (who might just get him kicked out) and trying to avoid her string of ex lovers (who might just kill him). On the bright side, his band, 5 Seconds of Summer might actually have a shot at winning Battle of the Bands this year. You know, if he doesn't lose his mind first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was the second week of school, a Tuesday night. In the absence of a roommate, Michael Clifford had gotten into the habit of rubbing one off before bed most nights. Alone in his dorm room, door locked and window slightly ajar for a benefit of a nice breeze, he found the video he'd bookmarked earlier on his favorite porn site and settled in for the night. At exactly 11: 23, he heard the rather alarming sound of his window being opened - from the outside -  and a small figure tumbled to the ground. Michael froze.

"Shit, fuck," it was a girl's voice coming from the oversized grey hoodie. She picked herself up off the groud and brushed herself off.

Michael slammed his laptop shut in panic.

"Shit,  _fuck,"_  she muttered again, spotting Michael, who was frozen on his bed. They eyed each other suspiciously. 

"Were you just- did I interrupt something?" she asked in a faintly amused voice, staring pointedly at his open laptop strategically placed on his lap. He could feel his face heating up, despite the fact that she had clearly been at fault. 

"Who the fuck are you?" Michael demanded instead, pointedly ignoring her question.

"Oh, fuck right sorry," expletive flew from her mouth like rapid-fire bullets. "Hi." She shoved the massive sleeves of her sweater up to her elbow, and stepped forward.

"I'm Camille," she started to extend a hand toward Michael, but then seemed to reconsider touching his hands. Or at least that's what Michael assumed. It was hard to read her face, still shadowed under the hood of her sweater. 

"Um yeah, why...why did you just climb through my window?" Michael asked, continuing to try to drag her attention away from his lap.

"Oh, fucking Eli, he fucking told be he had a bloody single on this floor, but maybe I counted windows wrong?" Camille shook her head and turned back to look at the window. "This was the first time..." she mumbled, mostly to herself.

"What first time breaking in through a window?" Michael's voice came out more strained than he'd intended, but Camille was beginning to unnerve him.

"No, no, just your room," she reassured brightly, turning around fast enough for her hood to slide back. It revealed a thick, too-long fringe of flaming red hair and black-framed glasses. There was something odd about her eyes, but before Michael could figure out what it was, there was a knock at the door. 

Immediately, another string of expletives shot out of Camille's mouth, possibly not in English. Her eyes darted around the room, and she made an aborted move back the way she came before deciding better of it. Suddenly she was throwing off her sweater and shirt, revealing an old sports bra and a long stretch of soft, pale stomach. Balling them up, she chucked the bundle behind his desk and dove onto his bed. 

"What the  _fuck_  are you doing?" Michael whispered frantically as a second knock came from the door. Camille removed her glasses with one hand and fished over the side of his bed for his boxers with the other. Handing him his boxers, she muttered quickly,

"Pretend we just had sex!"

"What? N-" This was getting out of hand really, really fast.

"Do it!" There was something in her wide eyes that made him agree.

"One sec!" he called to the person at the door, awkwardly wiggling back into his boxers and standing up.

"Wait!" Camille whispered desperately, grabbing him by his shoulder.

"Wha-" he couldn't even finish his question before Camille was up, standing on the bed for added leverage, and had attached her mouth to his neck. Her hands aggressively tousled his hair while she sucked a fierce lovebite to his skin. The combination of rough suction on his neck and hair pulling were anything but sexy. In fact, Michael felt rather like he was being manhandled.

"More convincing," she gasped, looking pleased with herself. Camille gave him a little shove toward the door before snuggling down in his sheets. 'She better be clean,' Michael thought darkly as he opened the door. 

His RA and someone in a uniform that he vaguely recognized as Public Safety stood before him. A mortifying moment of silence stretched between the three of them as they took in his appearance. Michael resolved to lock his window from now on as he tried to keep the blush off his face. 

"Oh hi, Mike," His RA (who's name he could never remember) greeted, looking everywhere but his eyes. "Sorry to um...yeah. Joe here," Michael took Joe to be the Pub Safe officer, "has been looking for someone, and..."

"Who is it, babe?" Camille called from where she lay hidden from sight on the bed. Her voice had taken on a quality that one could only describe as sultry. Michael found himself vaguely impressed with both her  guts and acting skills, even as he began to suspect he was harboring a fugitive of some sort.

"Oh, um we were just looking for- well last I saw them they were climbing, but I mean," Joe stumbled over his words, clearly out of him element when faced with a pair of hormonal teens (at least Michael  _assumed_  Camille was a teenager). "You- you didn't happen to notice someone climbing through your window?" Joe laughed sheepishly, shifting his weight uncomfortably. 

"Well  _I_  was a little distracted," Camille called shamelessly from the bed. Michael's cheeks caught on fire as he watched all the color drain from Joe's face. _  
_

"Yes, right of course," Joe mumbled, quickly shuffling a retreat.

"Well, um we'll...leave you to it." His RA squeaked awkwardly, quickly closing the door.

As soon as it clicked shut, Michael released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He wheeled around to look at Camille, who was already shrugging her shirt and sweater back on.

"What the  _hell_  was that?" Michael demanded in a strangled whisper.

"Oh that? That was nothing, I once avoided a possession charge with four girls in-"

"No, I mean, what just happened? Are you fucking crazy?" Michael collapsed hard on his bed and stared at he, bewildered.

Camille reached out a hand to smooth the lines out of his forehead. "You'll give yourself wrinkles that way," she nodded sagely. "Anyway, Pub Safe was after this," from the pocket of her sweater she withdrew a baggie that Michael strongly suspected contained drugs. I would explain her weird eye. He decided ignorance was the best route and refrained from questioning her about the baggie's contents.

"Thanks for not blowing my cover, um, Mikey was it?" he nodded wearily. "Do you want some, you know for your trouble?" She waved the baggie in his face and he quickly shook his head.

"Can you just..?" Michael sighed, gesturing toward the door. He'd suddenly lost all interest in why or how she'd ended up in his room. He just wanted her  _out._

"Yeah, sure of course! My bad. Shit. Here," She leaned forward and planted a sincere kiss on his cheek. "Seriously, thanks man."  And with that she slipped through the door and down the hall.

"What the  _fuck_  just happened?" Michael whispered running his hands through his hair as he locked the door and window and flipped off his lights.


	2. Chapter 2

Michael was sitting at his lunch table the next day, his head resting on his folded arms as he tried for the umpteenth time to figure out how the hell Camille had managed to climb through his third story window. He was beginning to sorely regret letting her go without an explaination. Someone jostled his elbow, jarring him out of his train of thought, and Mikey looked up to see Calum, his best friend and band mate, sliding into to the seat next to him.

"Rough night?" Calum jibed, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. Michael lifts his head up a little higher and sighed.

"Yes, actually."

"Holy shit mate, what happened to your neck?" Luke, his other friend and bandmate gasped, setting his lunch down heavily. Mikey clapped a hand over the previously forgotten lovebite. 

"Damn," Calum cackled, "you really did get some. Was she hot?"

"She was fucking crazy." Mikey muttered darkly.

"Crazy one are the best in the sack!" Calum extended his hand for a high five, which Michael pointedly ignored.

"No you don't understand. I didn't get laid." Michael explained slowly. "I got, like, attacked. Ambushed. In my own room."

"Shit," Luke comments around a mouthful of sandwich.

"Hiya lads, what's up?" Ashton, the fourth and final member of 5 Seconds of Summer, appeared over Calum's shoulder.

"Mike got mauled by some girl last night," Luke explained thickly through another bite of sandwich. 

"Shut up Luke," Michael groaned as Ashton's eyebrows shot up and disappeared behind his fringe.

When Ashton was settled, Mikey recounted the events of the previous night to his rapt audience. 

"...And I'm pretty sure she's a drug dealer. So, yeah." Michael concluded lamely. Ashton held up a single finger to indicated he wanted to speak, and after swallowing, promptly burst into a fit of giggles, earning him a glare for Mike.

"The fuck's so funny?" Calum whinged, wanting to be in on the joke.

"Dude, you met Hollie," Ashton chirped, trying to catch his breathe.

"No, she said her  name was Camille. I specifically remember." Michael shook his head.

"It had to be Hollie. Trust me." Ashton insisted.

Mikey's brow knitted. "But she just..."

"Bro, she played you like a guitar. Hollie doesn't even  _go_  here. She just deals whatever and squats around campus in empty rooms. She was probably looking to crash in your room. You're so lucky Pub Safe didn't try to come in, you'd have been in deep shit." Ashton leaned back in his chair, a slightly satisfied grin plastered across his face. 

"Wait, how do you know her?" Luke demanded. 

"She helped me haul some drunk freshman back to his dorm room last semester. She was pretty out of it herself, I think that's the only reason I caught her real name."

"And she just told you all of that?" Luke prodded dubiously. 

"No. But when I asked about her later, that's what I found out." 

"No, but that can't be the same person, the girl from last night said her name was Camille." Mikey argued.

"So wait, let me ge this straight," Ashton sobered up quickly. "You have no trouble believing she somehow managed to scale the side of a building up to the third floor, probably while high, and that she's a drug dealer, but  _not_  that she gave you a fake name?"

Mikey shrugged, still unconvinced.

"Look, she was short, red hair, on the heavier side, but like, not in a bad way, you know? Like, kinda scary, but in a cute way ("How can someone be scary in a cute way?" Calum wrinkled his nose. "Ke$ha." Luke responded without even looking up)?" Ashton rattled off, and Mikey's heart sank because that was definitely the girl who climbed through his window last night. He couldn't put his finger on exactly why it bugged him that she'd lied about her name, but for some reason it ticked him off 

"Wait! Is she the chick who used the chem lab to cook meth last year?" Calum asked gleefully. The rumor had been circulating around the first year dorms and as a second year student, Ashton had a better handle on the school rumors. 

"Yeah, that was her, but I don't know if it actually happened. It's probably just a rumor." Ashton supplied.

"Well, whatever, either way, I learned my lesson." Mikey announced.

"And what lesson was that?" Cal asked.

"Lock your windows." Michael muttered. "Well, and not having a roommate doesn't mean you'll have more privacy." He'd intentionally left out what he'd been doing when Camil-  _Hollie_  had dropped in on him.

"Ok, enough about your girlfriend-" Calum said, interrupting his thoughts.

"She's n-"

"-We need to talk about where the fuck we're gonna practice," he finished, drowning out Michael's protests.

"Well there should be sound-proof rooms in McArthur," Ashton noted thoughtfully. 

"Wait, which one's McArthur?" Luke asked, looking lost.

"Fine arts building. Across from the gym," Michael explained impatiently. "Cal, I thought you asked about that. Didn't they say you have to apply for a permit for private use of the rooms?" 

A sly smile tugged at the edges of Ashton's mouth as he explained. "I might have nicked the keys to a side door from a TA..."

Calum's face was a mixture of admiration and annoyance. "You fucked her, didn't you? You fucked the TA." He sighed, not bothering to sound unimpressed.

"And stole her master key." Ashton reminded. 

"Couldn't she get fired for that?" Luke pointed out. 

"Luke, shut up you're missing the point." Michael exclaimed. "We have a practice space!" 

"Yeah but we have to be careful. Like, lock everything up after we leave, make sure the buildings empty before we start, the whole lot." Ashton cautioned seriously.

"This is some fucking next level James Bond shit," Cal muttered excitedly to himself. Michael scoffed, but he couldn't deny that there was a certain weight that felt lifted, knowing they finally had a place to practice again. 

 

When Mikey got back to his room that night, he ignored his homework in favor of practicing his guitar very, very softly. Still kind of shaken after last night's intrusion, he decided to skip the wank and just go to sleep. As he was drifting off, his hand met something under his pillow that most certainly was not his sheets. Warily, Michael sat up and flipped on his lamp.

"One night. One fucking night where I can just go to bed like a normal person," he grumbled to himself as he pulled a tiny plastic bag, like the kind in which his mother put her earings. Holding it up for inspection, he saw that it contained white powder and a scrap of paper, all rolled up. 

"Fuck," he mumbled, cautiously sniffing the powder as he extracted the note. He realized that he actually had no clue what meth or coke or heroin or whatever the powder could possibly be, smelled like. Smoothing out the note, he read the unfamiliar scrawl.

_thanks again for helping me out last night. don't worry this is just baking soda, i wanted to fuck with you. the real prezzie is in your guitar case._

She didn't sign it, but there really was no need, and she knew it. Mikey sighed, running a hand through his bleached hair, before digging through his guitar case. It took a good 5 minutes to find the second baggie with maybe half a gram of weed, tucked inside the lining of his case. Even through the plastic, Michael could smell how dank it was, and figured they were even now. 

Well, except that she'd broken into his room. Again. He checked the windows, and sure enough, they were still locked. Shaking his head, Mikey climbed back into bed. 

"Either she can pick locks, or she can Apparate..." he mused to himself.


	3. Chapter 3

Alex Gaskarth woke Michael from his slumber. Well, actually it was his All Time Low ringtone, but no matter. He checked the time as he hit answer. 12:14 am.

"Hey dude, it's Ashton." Immediately, Mikey could tell he'd been drinking.

"Fuck Ash, this better be important," he groaned. Mikey'd gotten sicka few days prior, and was just now starting to feel better, which explained why he was already asleep at midnight.

"I know you're sick, but we have a situation here, and Lukey boy when home for the weekend." 

Mike slowly dragged himself upright and switched on his lamp. "And?"

"Calum's in a bad way. I think he had something, but he's in a right state, and I'm not really able to take him home."

Michael shoved his feet into nearest shoes and searched around for a jumper. "Is that because you're drunk, or trying to get laid?" he inquired.

"Both," giggled Ashton.

"Well good luck with that mate," Michael muttered to himself. "Alright, I'm coming, just tell me where you are. And both of you are gonna fucking owe me for this."  _The shit I do for this fucking band._

 

Michael could tell he was in the right place once he hit the 4 block radius. Cal and Ashton liked a good party, but Mikey was honestly surprised that the cops hadn't already shut it down. He picked his way up the littered front walk, dodging plastic cups and bodies. After nearly tripping over posssibly two girls hooking up (it took all of his strength not to go back and investigate), Michael stumbled through the front door.  _Fuck_. The house was huge and fucking packed. He glanced around hopelessly before whipping out his phone and shooting a text to Ashton. He wandered through the house, trying to spot Calum, growing steadily more frustrated. Just as he was about to give up, he spotted Ashton wedged between two cute girls, avidly watching something on his phone. No wonder he hadn't replied.

Climbing over a coffee table, Mike grabbed Ashton's shoulder.

"WHERE'S CAL?" he roared, trying to make himself heard over the blasting music. 

"Upstairs! In one of the bedrooms!" Ashton gestured wildly. His pupils were huge and his hair was plastered to his forhead with sweat. "Thanks for coming mate!"

Michael waved him off and took off to find the staircase. He bumped into someone at chest height and when he looked down, he realized it was Hollie.

"You!" He shouted, shocked. He hadn't seen her in over a month, and suddenly there she was. 

"Hi!" she responded cheerfully, clearly crossfaded. Michael could see no recognition in her glassy, red eyes.  _How does she not remember me?_

"You don't remember me?!" he demanded, leaning down to speak directly into her ear. Michael was a bit offended, actually. You don't just forget about the boy who saved your ass after you climbed through his window unannounced.

Hollie paused, clearly trying to remember. Finally she turned to press her mouth agaist his ear. "Should I?" she slurred politely. He stared down at her in disbelief.

"You climbed through my fuckin- never mind. Do you know how to get upstairs?"  She grabbed the front of his jumper without preamble and started weaving unevenly through the crowd, leaving him no choice but to follow. For a tiny drunk thing, she sure had a strong grip, even his she was wobbly. She pulled him through a hallway, and sure enough, there was a staircase at the end of the hall. Hollie released her grip on him and pointed at it. Michael nodded his thanks and charged up the stairs.

The third door he tried swung open to revealed Calum sitting half-naked in a bathtub. Not a bedroom, but at least Michael'd found him. His bare torso was shining with sweat and even in the yellow light, Mikey could see that he was oddly flushed, his eyes too-wide. He seemed to recognize Michael as a friend, but he made no movement from where he was huddled.  _Fucking hell,_  Mikey thought,  _the fuck did he take?_

"Alright then?" Mike hedged cautiously, helping Cal out of the tub and looking about fo his shirt. It was no where in sight, but Michael was grateful is was only his shirt missing.

"When did you get here?" Calum asked in a vague voice. Mikey realized then just how out of it he was, and that's when he started to get nervous. 

"Just got here. I'm gonna take you home, mate." he replied gently, relieved to see that Cal still had his shoes on. "Do you remember what you took?"

"I've got everything," Calum nodded disjointedly, feeling around behind him in the bathtub and sliding his snapback on his head sideways.

Mikey fixed his hat and wrapped an arm around Calums waist, slowly hauling him out of the cramped water closet.  "No, earlier Cal. What did you take? Drugs, mate. Did you drink anything?" Anxiety was wearing his patience thin.

"Shots," Calum slurred. Michael had forgotten how solid his friend was, and Cal was leaning on him heavily. Michael panicked for a second, imagining Calum shooting up something, but no. Cal wasn't that dumb. Or reckless. Plus, he smelled like alcohol.

"For fucks sake Cal, you clearly did more than just shots. What else did you do?" Michael prompted testily, gritting his teeth as they started down the stairs. Calum shook his head. "Do you remember who gave it to you?"

A hollow giggle burst from Calum's dry lips. "Your girlfriend," he grunted, sagging even further against Mikey as his eye slid in and out of focus.

It took a minute to register who Cal was on about. "Oh for fuck's sake," Michael growled. It was like Hollie was hellbent on ruining his life. Where the fuck was she, anyway? His desire to get back to his bed was suddenly overruled by the desire to give her a piece of his mind.  Retracing his steps back to the front door as best he could, he spotted Hollie in the kitchen, sitting on a counter with some tall blonde bracketed between her legs. Michael sat Cal on the step down to the den with firm instructions not to move, which was kind of pointless, since he clearly was going anywhere on his own.

Making his way over to Hollie, Michael could feel himself fuming more and more. Maybe it was his wounded pride that she hadn't fucking remembered him (okay yes that was definitely it), but also she'd drugged his best friend, and that was really crossing a line.

"Hollie!" He shouted when he was in hearing range. It took her a minute to untangle herself for the girl who's face she was sucking, but then she looked up, flushed and confused.

"Oh." Was all she had to say, wiping her wet mouth with the back of her hand.

"What the fuck did you give him, huh?" Michael shouted, maybe a bit louder than necessary. 

Her face twisted further in confusion, and her blonde friend turned around. Suddenly Michael wasn't too entirely sure if she was a girl, or just a pretty boy in lots of make up. But then Hollie was sliding off the counter and whispering something into the boy's ear that made him leave, though not without giving Mikey a wary look.

"Where's your friend?" Hollie was swaying on her feet, clearly she'd gotten more fucked up in their brief parting, and she had to clutch Michael's sleeve to stay upright. He sullenly led her to the step, where Cal was propped up against the wall, eyes closed. Mikey heard Hollie mutter something that sounded vaguely like Russian before squatting in front of Cal.

"Hey sweetheart," she said softly, in a tone quite unlike any Mikey had heard her use before. She sounded like a mother talking to a sick child. Which sort of made sense, in an odd way. Cal eyes stayed shut but he opened his mouth and said something Michael could catch. They appeared to have a conversation, until Calum cracked open one eye. Mikey nudged Hollie with his foot.

"What'd he say?" He groused. Hollie fell flat on her ass, apparently unable to balance after the nudge, and made sad grabby hands at Michael. He sighed heavily and reached down to pull her up. "Well?"

"The mollie I gave him was good." Hollie announced.

"Then why is he so fucked up?" Michael demanded, aggravated by everyone's inability to give him a straight fucking answer.

"I think he was roofied."

"Fucking roofies?!"

"Just, just a bit. He'd be, like completely gone if he'd had much more than that, you know? I got roofied once and I was out in 3 minutes flat." Michael just stared at her in disbelief. "Yeah not good, not fun. I was a mess the next morning," Hollie continued blithely.  _What the fuck is wrong with this girl?_  Michael wondered.

"We should get him home." Hollie concluded, looking down at Calum.

"We?" He suspected she wouldn't be much help, seeing as she was wasted herself. On the other hand, Mikey wasn't exactly relishing the idea of dragging half-conscious Calum home by himself. "Fine, let's go."

"Good. Then we can call it even for the window incident," declared Hollie, leaning against the wall to brace herself as she reached an arm under Calum. 

"Yeah, sure. Whatever."   _So she_ did _fucking remember._ What a bitch, acting like she didn't know him. Michael shot her a dirty look before helping her hoist Cal to his feet.

 

 


End file.
